


Say That Again

by IssyLily



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Academia, Dirty Talk, Discussions of Language, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Hong Kong Shatterdome, Idiots in Love, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multilingual Character, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Top Hermann Gottlieb, eventual absolute filth, going at it, language lessons, like i'm embarrassed editing it, newt is unable to deal, so much of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IssyLily/pseuds/IssyLily
Summary: Hermann is a polyglot. Newt has an oral fixation.Things go about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 18
Kudos: 78





	Say That Again

As far as Tendo is concerned, Hermann Gottlieb is by far the scariest member of the Hong Kong Shatterdome’s K-Science Team – of the two of them that are now left, of course.

Newt is a pussycat – sure, you can piss him off by delaying his Kaiju bits in internal customs or by using the last of the canteen’s coffee supply before he’s dragged himself out of bed, but the most he does in retaliation is roll his eyes, rant for a few minutes in a slightly higher-than-usual pitch, and then bitch about it for a week or so. Over and done with.

Hermann Gottlieb, on the other hand, requires a more delicate, treading-on-eggshells approach. Tendo still remembers the hazing he had received in his first week on base; his immediate superior had asked him to inform Hermann that his request for some office supplies or something (he doesn’t remember – too scarred by the event to look back upon it too often) had been denied. It had been the first time he had met either of the K-Science team, and Newt had caught his eye and slowly drawn his index finger over his throat whilst wincing at him. Hermann had then proceeded to unleash a torrent of incomprehensible swear words over the PPDC’s _complete lack of respect for my workplace_ and their _inability to understand the vitality of my work in this project_.

Tendo had stood there and absorbed it all like a sponge that Hermann was about to wring out until Newt had distracted him with a crack comment about a misplaced integer on one of his chalkboard calculations, and the mathematician had snapped to attention so fast Tendo had been surprised he hadn’t given himself whiplash. While Newt received his verbal beating, he had mouthed _run_ to Tendo, who had given him a wide-eyed nod of thanks before dutifully fleeing the scene.

Hermann isn’t so harsh anymore if he’s being fair, years of living in the Shatterdome having tempered the worst of his impatience. He just doesn’t like people; doesn’t like interacting with them, doesn’t like them in his space, doesn’t want them hovering over him and asking questions and, essentially, distracting him.

How he shares a lab with Newt is beyond Tendo’s comprehension.

But there isn’t anywhere else to sit in the canteen right now, so he braces himself and slips into the vacant seat opposite the two biggest nuisances on base.

“Alright Newt?” Tendo says, and the man smiles and raises his mug of coffee in greeting. He shifts his gaze to Hermann and chooses carefully. “And good morning, Doctor Gottlieb. What are you guys doing here so early?”

Hermann’s lips trail into a tight smile and Tendo gives himself a mental pat on the back. _Get in_.

The self-congratulation has a lifespan of under a second.

“Don’t pander to his archaic ideas of professionalism Tendo, it makes him totally insufferable,” Newt huffs and Tendo counts down _3, 2, 1…_ in his head.

Their spats are Shatterdome _legend_.

“ _I’m_ insufferable? Despite the fact that you have once _again_ flooded the laboratory with radioactive materials, you find it appropriate to label _me_ insufferable-”

“Hey, quit biting my head off, I work with radioactive materials every day and this is only like the second time it’s happened-”

“This _week_ ,” Hermann enunciates, and Tendo takes a swig of tea. If this were the old days, he would have popcorn too.

Newt huffs back, and his volume dial turns up just enough that Tendo is now witness to an _argument_. And all before 11AM. _These two really are incredible_ , he thinks to himself.

“Well I’m sorry that those totally unforeseeable and unpreventable accidents have gotten in the way of your work-”

“Unpreventable, yes, and yet, I have never managed to reach quite your level of destruction,” Hermann sneers back.

Newt snorts in response. “That’s because you don’t do real science man, you’re just some maths nerd in a tweed blazer messing around with chalk all day, which is actually really annoying and really distracting, would it kill you to get a whiteboard and some markers-”

“My science is more specialised and more advanced than you could ever dream of you jumped up scalpel jockey!” Hermann shouts, and _oh god people are starting to look now._

“Yeah well at least I don’t dress like someone’s grandad,” Newt claps back, “Macklemore would have a field day with your wardrobe.”

“I don’t know what a Macklemore is-”

“Exactly, because you’re a grandad-”

“Just because I don’t understand your sycophantic, outdated cultural references…” Hermann snaps, and that’s a decent hit in Tendo’s mental scoreboard of the argument (Newt is unfortunately losing on account of said sycophantic, outdated cultural references), “Either way, I’d rather be a grandad than a bratty, spoilt man-child with an exorbitant ego.”

 _Ouch, that one’s going to hurt_ , Tendo thinks to himself, and he turns his head in anticipation of Newt’s reaction, swinging between the two as if he were at Wimbledon.

“Oh that’s rich,” Newt scoffs, “‘ _This is_ my _side of the laboratory Newton, don’t cross the line Newton, I’m going to keep calling you Newton despite you asking on numerous occasions during the past_ decade _for me to call you Newt_ ’!”

Tendo has to acknowledge that that one is a fair shot.

“That doesn’t make me spoiled _Newton_ , it is merely the work I must do to prevent your idiocy contaminating my work environment. And even that fails me when you decide to release radioactive chemicals into the atmosphere-”

“Accidentally! And given that we have seven PhDs between us and six of them are mine, I hardly think-”

“Ah yes, of course I bow to your clearly superior intelligence Doctor Geiszler, though if you could remind me of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity?”

It’s like watching the world’s most violent mating ritual. They bark and bite and snap and snarl at each other without a care in the world for anything else, quantum locked into each other’s orbits, until they are both satisfied and exhausted from the excess and the drama. Tendo is convinced that they actively look for reasons to fight – out of boredom, or some singular form of affection that only exists between the two of them. Or both.

“Just because I don’t know some old dude’s physics equation,” Newt says weakly, and Tendo awards another point to Hermann, “I’m a biologist, I don’t care about velocity or acceleration or whatever the hell relativity is-”

“’ _Whatever relativity is’_ ,” Hermann mocks drily, “Well I’m glad that your academic studies have prepared you this well-”

“We get it Mr Know-It-All,” Newt says, rolling his eyes, though it is with a little more venom than usual.

“ _Doctor_ Know-It-All,” Hermann snaps instantly, enunciating the title with an undisguised glee.

Yeah, they _definitely_ enjoy this, Tendo thinks to himself. There’s no way that Hermann – at least –isn’t getting off on this.

Newt gets off too, but unfortunately, it’s off of his chair and Tendo knows he needs to nip this in the bud soon.

“Oh my god, you condescending son of a-”

And that’s his signal. The Marshal has strict rules about swearing in the canteen; it’s the only place where the Shatterdome’s kids are allowed to roam free amongst the adults.

“Gentlemen!” Tendo says, raising his voice just enough that the two of them immediately snap out of their alternate universe (seemingly one where their only aim is to verbally eviscerate the other) and back into the present. Tendo points towards their plates and comments, “Food’s getting cold.”

Newt settles back down into his chair, steam almost visibly hissing out from his ears, and Hermann glares at him for a solid three-second beat until he turns to his plate.

They eat in an awkward silence, and Tendo is glad that the rest of the canteen no longer seems to be interested in their table. He is grateful for the return of their neighbour’s conversation, even if it is about their dad’s hernia. What a wonderful topic for breakfast.

“So, Mr Choi, we’re here this early because we are currently barred from the laboratory by the Radiation Response Unit,” Hermann says nonchalantly whilst Newt flushes over his scrambled eggs, “What brings you here?”

Tendo gives Newt a sympathetic smile, and then replies, “Major issues up in the J-Tech workshop. There’s some bug in the system and all of our comms are coming up in different languages. I’m trying to do an audit on Shaolin Rouge’s neural interfaces and all of my paperwork is now in Greek.”

“You can’t just run them through a translation programme?” Newt asks, side-eyeing Hermann and daring him to call it a stupid question. Hermann doesn’t even look his way, intrigued by the problem Tendo is posing.

Tendo shakes his head. “Everything’s jammed. Pretty weird bug – it’s not a hacker or anything to really worry about, it’s just going to majorly slow us down. The Kaidonovsky’s are up there now getting all the Russian bits sorted, but it’s a pain in the ass for me – we’ve got people from pretty much everywhere, but no one from Greece.”

Hermann rests his hands on the table, and asks, “Do you have your reports with you? On a mobile device or the like?”

Tendo sees Newt mouth _mobile device_ under his breath with a roll of the eyes as he reaches into his rucksack to get his tablet, and he has to repress a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s all on here, but unless you can fix the entire system bug remotely, I doubt you’ll be able to do anything with it,” he says, passing the screen across the table to Hermann, who clutches it in his hands with genuine interest.

“I’m the one with the spare computer engineering degree,” Newt pipes up, but Hermann just shushes him.

“If you give me a few hours, I may be able to assist you,” Hermann proffers, scanning through the documents with intrigue before he makes eye contact with Tendo and offers him a very brief smile.

Tendo has no doubt that his face is doing an adequate job of expressing his confusion. “I appreciate the offer Doctor Gottlieb, but our techs have been working on it since about six this morning and haven’t made much headway-”

Hermann shakes his head. “No, I cannot fix the system error,” he clarifies, “But I do speak Greek.”

Newt chokes on his toast.

“You _what_?” he blurts out after a loud coughing fit, “Since when do you speak _Greek_?”

Tendo’s not sure why Newt is close to having an aneurysm over a pretty harmless bit of information, and Hermann seems to be questioning his reaction too, if his raised eyebrows are anything to go by.

“Since I learned it,” he says bluntly, and dismisses Newt as he opens up a blank Word document parallel to Tendo’s files.

Newt still has a pretty weird look on his face, but as he watches Hermann’s fingers tap swiftly, delicately, precisely over the keyboard of the tablet, it turns into blatant fascination. At the point where Hermann starts mumbling in Greek under his breath – _i nevrikí diepafí vrísketai se krísimo epípedo_ – Newt ogles Hermann like nothing else exists.

Tendo doesn’t think Newt is even aware that he is staring, let alone open-mouthed.

 _One day they’ll get round to it_ , he thinks, _they’re smart enough. They’ll figure it out eventually._

“Are you sure that’s alright Doctor Gottlieb?” Tendo asks, shaking himself back to the present moment, “I don’t want to distract you from your work.”

“Given that we are currently locked out of the laboratory, I have nothing else to work on,” Hermann says, and Newt is apparently still so shocked from the Greek thing that he doesn’t even react to the snub, “It’s no problem. I’ll work through the documents and return this to you this afternoon.” He gestures to the tablet, obsequiously requesting permission to keep it, and Tendo nods and thanks him.

He types a quick email through to his boss on his cell to update him about the jaeger audit – though it’ll undoubtedly come through in French or something, so he’s not sure why he’s bothering – but about halfway through writing the message, something very surprising happens.

“I’m not quite sure of the exact translation of this conditional clause; if it were the protasis, it would mean the neural interfaces _have_ been replaced, but as it is a strange conjunction of the apodosis, I cannot decipher if it has been done or not,” Hermann murmurs without looking up, though Tendo gets the impression that the man expects him to be listening.

He is about to open his mouth and reassure Hermann that it’s fine – he knows off the top of his head that Shaolin Rouge’s interfaces were indeed replaced last month – when Newt climbs off of his chair, grabs his mug from the table and practically _runs_ away, leaving the remains of his breakfast behind, his fork still resting in the remains of the beans.

The rush of air from his sudden movement is enough to make Hermann look up from the tablet’s screen and cease his typing. He stares at Newt’s vacant seat, and a frown creases across his forehead that seems to come from more than just frustration.

“Maybe he had a bad holiday there once,” Tendo tries to joke, but Hermann just looks at the empty chair next to him and utters a soft “Hmm.”

Tendo gets his tablet back at 2PM that afternoon, and when a Category II Kaiju fights its way out of the Breach and thrashes towards the Sydney coastline a few hours later, the strange events of that morning fall out of his head pretty rapidly.

*

The incident doesn’t quite slip from Hermann’s mind in the same way – more that it shifts to the side and then down a few neural corridors, and tucks itself away behind a door that remains slightly ajar.

The Sydney attack, however, occupies his every waking hour for the next month or so before things begin to calm down again. The extraordinary amount of data generated by the attack, ripe for the picking in its aftermath, means that he can make staggering jumps in his theoretical models regarding the Breach, and his excitement about his progress leads him to make it nearly four days without sleep before Newt manhandles him to his bed.

( _He won’t admit to having enjoyed that. A mere side effect of having been awake for so long. Just normal sleep-deprived jitters. Nothing to it at all_ ).

Newt is similarly enjoying himself – Hermann is reluctant to express such an emotion given how much damage has been done, but Newt has never had any such qualms – but there is a part of him that seems distracted.

Theirs is an odd relationship, Hermann constantly finds himself thinking. They have been in each other’s lives for well over ten years now – sometimes Newt feels like his other half, and sometimes he cannot figure him out at all.

It doesn’t help that the only thing that comes close to touching the magnitude of the man’s intelligence is the depth of his emotional density. Hermann thinks he could shove him up against his chalkboard and thrust his hand down his trousers ( _not that he would, speaking metaphorically of course, for the sake of putting across an argument you see_ ) and Newt would still think he was _messing with him_.

Like Hermann has ever _messed_ with anyone in his life.

But either way, Newt has been distracted for weeks, which explains why, when the group of engineers arrive to rip up the flooring in their lab to correct the thousands of electrical wiring faults beneath, he _still_ hasn’t cleared out any of his experiments (or his “pets”, as Hermann likes to call them).

“Oh man, you guys cannot be serious!” he exclaims, waving his arms around as the team of five begin moving his various tanks to one corner of the room, “Stop touching that! That’s Kaiju-Blue and it’s very toxic! Very toxic! And- shit, guys, don’t unplug that! That’s the refrigeration switch for the liver! No, no…”

Hermann, who left Newt in the lab at 9PM the previous night with strict instructions to remember to tidy his side of the room before he went to bed, is resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sight. Like the man ever listens to him. He’s not quite sure why he bothers.

He’s also not quite sure why Newt is persisting in ranting in English when the engineering team exclusively speaks Cantonese. Unfortunately for him – and the team, he supposes – Newt does catch on a few minutes later.

“Urgh okay, how do you say this in Chinese?” Newt asks himself aloud, not even acknowledging Hermann’s stares from the doorway, “Um, bié pèng! Hěn huài!”

Newt staggers through an explanation like one wades through treacle when trying to run in a dream, and Hermann winces at the various mispronunciations; one of the engineers catches his eye and makes a _is he serious?_ face, but Hermann merely shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of coffee.

However, when that same engineer accidentally spills a vial of Kaiju-Blue and it eats through the grated steel floor like water through tissue paper, Hermann realises he should probably intervene.

Newt’s face is a _picture_ when Hermann opens his mouth and gives precise instructions about the volatility of the materials they are moving in fluent Cantonese.

The lead engineer nods along, and ultimately rearranges the work for another day when they can come back with the correct protective equipment.

“Can you ask your friend to make sure everything is cleared out next time?” the engineer asks, pointing at the still-gobsmacked Newt with a measure of derision, and Hermann scowls slightly.

 _He_ is allowed to be condescending, rude and borderline cruel to Newton Geiszler – nobody else is. The very cheek of even trying it.

“I suggest that you give us more warning next time,” Hermann snaps back, his lips curling into a glare, despite the fact that, really, they had had ample warning and Newt was just impossible to manage.

It’s not a fair complaint, but Hermann has always been protective. Of his friends, that is.

Or friend. Singular. Really.

The chief engineer scoffs but doesn’t say another word as he directs his team out of the lab. Hermann thinks it might be best if he makes himself scarce for their rescheduled appointment next week.

Newt is still staring at him.

“Seriously?” he asks, his eyes growing wide behind the thick rims of his glasses, “You speak Cantonese now too?”

Hermann drains the rest of his coffee and limps into the lab, making for his desk.

“Your continual surprise is not offensive in the slightest,” he replies primly, sinking into his chair and reaching for his computer mouse. He looks at the screen instead of Newt, “I speak around twelve languages, for the sake of avoiding another nasty shock in the future.”

“You’re a polyglot?” Newt asks, and if he sounds breathless instead of incredulous, Hermann does his best to ignore it, “And you never thought that would be an interesting tidbit to mention? I thought we were supposed to be friends dude!”

“We share a laboratory, Doctor Geiszler, that fact does not immediately compel me to spill out every last detail of my life to you,” Hermann says, and it comes out far more harshly than he intends.

Newt, duly reprimanded, bites back, “Fine, don’t mind me, I’ll sit here quietly and never ask you another question again.”

Hermann truly would be a fool if he believed that.

“So, what languages do you speak?” Newt pipes up after about five minutes, and Hermann switches off his computer monitor with an exaggerated sigh and swivels in his chair to face him. Newt is somehow already covered in Kaiju gore, a bloodied scalpel in one hand and a suction-drier in the other. With his hair pointing in all directions, and fascination glinting in his eyes like gold, he looks every bit the mad scientist, and Hermann’s frustration with him shifts to another feeling rather rapidly.

He kicks himself under the desk, like that is going to do anything to his heart.

“English, obviously, French, Spanish, Hebrew, German – you know about that one – Russian, Korean, Japanese, Cantonese, Swedish, Greek and… Dutch,” Hermann lists dutifully, trying to not get distracted by the slow-motion descent of Newton’s lower jaw.

The lab light glints off of the moisture trailing his bottom lip and Hermann literally shivers in his seat.

The first letter he had ever received from Newt – way back before the PPDC, before the Jaeger machines, before complicated feelings that he still refuses to let himself feel – had been written in German, and it had only been in the past three or four years that they had eked into English. It is still useful for them to communicate in their native tongue when in company – especially when that company is distasteful to the two of them (oh and how delighted Newt had been to learn how “secretly bitchy” Hermann was) – so he is not sure why this information is having such a profound effect.

“I never properly learned Hebrew,” Newt says after a few moments pause, “I still remember the few odd bits from synagogue, but not enough to put a sentence together.”

“Eizehu chacham? Ha’lomed mi’kol adâm,” Hermann replies softly, hoping that the phrase is familiar enough that Newt understands it as the almost-compliment that he intends it to be.

Newt pales, and for a second Hermann is worried that he has sparked some long-repressed memory or something similarly traumatic. He knows enough of Newt’s childhood to know that are some things he ought never to mention.

“I’m just- I’m going to grab some lunch,” he garbles, the sentence starting at a pitch so high that Hermann winces, “Gonna grab some… sandwiches… I’ll get you some coffee or something.”

And then he hightails it out of the lab so quickly that Hermann doesn’t even have the chance to say that he would prefer tea.

*

“You would not believe how hot it is over here man.”

Newt’s voice crackles through their incredibly patchy videocall connection, and Hermann takes advantage of a brief signal stall to smile fondly through the lens of his computer’s camera.

He imagines being in Rio with Newton – he had been invited after all. He always is. Every time the man wants to go chasing Kaiju parts in the aftermath of an attack, Hermann gets the same pitch: _C’mon dude, it’s an adventure! Let’s go see a bit of the planet that doesn’t look like a run-down backdrop building in_ Cyberpunk _. Plus the beach, you love the beach!_

Hermann _hates_ the beach, but all the same there is always a part of him that wants to say yes: sometimes because he really doesn’t enjoy the silence in the laboratory during the few days that Newt is away, and sometimes because he simply wonders what would happen.

He has never once accepted. More fool him, he supposes.

“Believe it or not Newton, but I am fully prepared to accept that Brazil is rather temperate given that it rests on the Equator-”

“Oh my god,” Newt complains down the phone, wildly gesticulating despite the fact that he has his hands full, “You are so annoying to talk to, you know that don’t you? You are literally doing this on purpose, just to irritate me. It’s very childish you know, and given that-”

There is a small knock at the laboratory’s door, so timid and tinny that Hermann barely hears it over the sound of Newt trampling around what is left of Rio de Janeiro’s coastline. He looks up from his computer screen, and spies Mako Mori peering in at him, half hidden behind the doorframe.

“I’ll have to let you go Newton, Mako is here,” Hermann says, beckoning Mako in with a gesture, and he definitely _isn’t_ jealous of just how rapidly Newt’s face cracks into a grin at the sound of her name.

“Nah, put her on! I haven’t seen her for weeks,” Newt says, and Hermann huffs before allowing Mako to settle into a chair next to him. She lifts a hand and gives an enthusiastic wave down the camera to Newt before greeting him.

“Hi Newt! How are you enjoying Brazil?”

Mako Mori is fourteen years old, and Hermann knows she barely remembers a day of her life that wasn’t filled with destruction and alien blood and giant metal monsters. He feels protective of her in a way that he never has with his nieces and nephews – it is an abstract feeling, but he _cares_ about her. He wants to see her grow up and be free of all of this.

“It’s great! I was just telling Hermann that it’s surf season over here, so he needs to get his wetsuit on and come and join me,” Newt teases, and Hermann’s lip curls into a smile that he hopes stays hidden.

It wouldn’t do him any good for Newt to find out that he appreciates his sense of humour. The smugness would be unbearable.

“Anyway, you all good? What are you doing spending time with Doctor No-Fun?” Newt continues, and Hermann _has_ to respond to that.

“We have had this conversation before Newton – I hardly think I can be called “no fun” for insisting that you do not use Kaiju Blue for, and I quote, ‘illustrative purposes’.”

“It would be great for watercolour painting!” Newt retorts, “And anyway, it’s my blood. I’m the one who spends hours of his stupid life trampling through Kaiju guts to collect it, so if I want to use it to make collages about genomics, then it’s fine. You’re not my mum!”

It’s all exaggerated for Mako’s benefit, but Hermann falls into the role easily.

“And that is something that we can both count as a blessing,” he says back, and Mako lets out a little giggle next to him. He smiles at her as kindly as he can, and then replies to Newt’s original question.

“Mako approached me about learning a few words of German, and now that the laboratory is quiet enough for work to be done thanks to _someone’s_ absence, we’re going to have a short class,” Hermann says, and Newt fist-pumps the air.

“Best language ever!” he shouts, “Keep me on the line, two heads are better than one. So first off, you gotta start with the classics: verdammt, scheiße, arschgeige-”

“Newton, if you insist on trying to integrate swearing into the curriculum, I will disconnect you.”

“She’s a teenager Hermann, she needs to know swear words and slang or no one will want to talk to her-”

“I never swore as a teenager and I had no issues-”

“Herm, with all due respect, you had no friends either.”

The diminutive of his name belies the sting of the insult, and Hermann flushes deeply.

Mako is quiet, having not spoken more than a few words since arriving, and Hermann suddenly becomes aware of just how overwhelming it must be to be sat there watching these two frankly _bizarre_ men argue so intimately with one another. He thinks Newt must realise it too – _and isn’t it funny how they can share the same thought even when they are on opposite sides of the world_ – because he stops himself and says, “Actually, we should probably ask Mako where she wants to start.”

The lesson that follows is thirty minutes of explanations around adjectives and verb conjugations – interspersed with Newt’s insistence on teaching a few phrases that will help her “get down with the kids” – and though it is muddled beyond reproach, Hermann finds that he genuinely enjoys himself. Mako scribbles through almost eight pages in her notebook, so at any rate, he thinks he has been helpful – though perhaps less so than he would’ve normally been thanks to their _distraction_.

“Do you speak Russian too, Doctor Gottlieb?” Mako asks as he makes yet another comparison of the grammatical structures between the two languages.

“Oh, don’t get him started Mako, Doctor Chomsky over there speaks _twelve_ ,” Newt enunciates through gritted teeth as he saws (Hermann thinks) through a large piece of Kaiju cartilage.

The chaos of his working method is both impressive and _deeply_ concerning.

Mako’s follow-up question surprises Hermann – nobody has ever asked it before.

“Why so many?” she asks, awed but curious all the same.

“My father, primarily,” Hermann begins after a pause, “He insisted that my sister and I had a broad education, and languages became a major part of that. But also…”

He struggles to put what he wants to say into words; it is more of a _feeling_ than an explanation, which puts the whole conversation far out of his comfort zone, and he is somewhat surprised to discover just how personal it feels to try and elaborate upon it out loud.

“I am drawn to language because it is merely another form of mathematics,” he summarises, hoping that it might be enough, but Newt and Mako both look more puzzled than they had before. 

“If you think about the grammatical structures, let’s say, of different languages,” Hermann explains to Mako, avoiding eye contact (or as close as they can get to it via videocall) with Newt because for some reason he can’t _bear_ to look at him whilst talking about this, “They all have their rules and exceptions. In Spanish, for example, you have three different verb endings – AR, ER and IR – and then six different pronouns that they can be transformed with. You simply substitute the coefficients that are known, in order to generate the correct verbiage; it is algebra. And then with different tenses and manners of speaking – the perfect, the imperfect, the subjunctive and more – all you must do is alter the variables until you have the correct equation. Language is linear; it follows a pattern, just like mathematics. Most call it an art, but I am of the belief that it is one of the most important sciences that we have.”

Mako nods along to his speech, eyes wide, and she seems to understand just how important his words are, how much of his own convictions are bleeding through them.

Newt is mercifully quiet. Until he isn’t.

“So that’s how you learnt twelve languages? You just did the math?” he asks, incredulous at the suggestion, and if Hermann didn’t know any better, he would describe his expression as _enamoured_.

“It took rather a lot of study alongside that,” Hermann acknowledges, “But in essence… once I had discovered for myself just how they functioned, it became easier to collect them. It was a logical venture, though I must admit I did grow to understand why many linguists describe language-learning as a passionate endeavour.”

Newt mumbles something, but the connection is too poor for Hermann or Mako to hear it.

“Guys, I’m gonna have to love you and leave you,” he announces suddenly, “Tschüss Mako, keep up the German, Du bist ein Naturtalent!”

Then he looks at Hermann, and it’s almost like he _knows_ the effect of what he is about to say.

“Wir sehen uns bald _Lehrer_.”

Something blooms deep in Hermann’s stomach, the way a lotus unfurls and expands to reveal wide, fragile petals. He tries not to blush, tries to act as if his throat hasn’t instantly constricted, like he doesn’t want to reach through the screen and thoroughly ravage the man on the other side of it.

Like Newt hasn’t just touched on a fantasy that Hermann has been quietly entertaining for years.

The call disconnects from Newt’s end before Hermann has the chance to reply, and he stares at the screen until Mako draws his attention away.

“What did he call you, _Luhra_?”

She struggles with the pronunciation, but Hermann is sure she will go far – not just with German, but with everything she touches. If the fate of the world rests on the likes of Mako Mori, then Hermann almost dares to feel hopeful about it.

“ _Lehrer_ ,” Hermann clarifies, “It means ‘teacher’.”

*

It’s not like he _advertises_ it, but Newt’s blog is pretty popular on certain internet scenes.

It’s the only thing he has going on that comes close to counting as a hobby; whilst he is more than happy for his work at the Shatterdome to eat up 99% of his life, he needs something else.

It’s not like he can go out and get laid for extra-curriculars.

( _Well, he could, but not with the person that he wants, so it’s not really an option. Currently. He’s working on it. Sort of_.)

His blog doesn’t give away the ins and outs of his work at the PPDC – he has been hauled through way too many lectures from the Marshal about “confidentiality” and being thrown “to the mercy of the Kaiju” if he “persists in leaking classified information to the internet” – but he does try and make his science accessible.

Accessibility is one of the major problems in academia – has been since Machiavelli, and probably will continue to be so if people like Hermann’s dad continue to get their way; academics who insist on packing their papers with nonsense words and ridiculously convoluted theories to the extent that even other experts have to comb through their words more than once before they _get_ it. More than being a waste of time, Newt knows that it is a deliberate move to stop “imposters” from invading their little PhD club, and he _hates_ it.

Newt can remember so many times in grad school when he was made to feel stupid, to feel small, despite the fact that he could run rings about his tormentors, and if he can’t save the world ( _and it really isn’t looking good at the moment…_ ), he can at least try and stop the same thing from happening to people out there who just want to learn.

Nothing wrong with that. If anything, he considers himself a little bit noble for doing it.

So, he runs his blog, and every once in a while, he’ll upload a video of himself in the lab talking through a theory in terms that he hopes everyone can understand. He even tries to post semi-regular videos of him slicing and dicing his way through Kaiju organs – though he keeps it to the “exciting” bits after learning that not everyone finds Kaiju eyeballs as fascinating as he does.

Hermann knows about the blog, and typically does not approve. He harrumphs and huffs and refuses to participate in any of Newt’s content, and generally treats it – and him, of course – with contempt.

( _And if Hermann has a secret Google alert for it on his phone that Newt doesn’t have a clue about, well then that’s his business.)_

Newt gets a lot of comments under his posts, but he lets most of them go unread. His readers are from all corners, and a lot of activity comes through in languages he can’t decipher. Like he says, it’s a hobby – he’s got the end of the world to stop as a priority. He’s content to carry on blogging on faith alone.

“Another inane contribution to the field of science,” Hermann says snarkily as he walks past Newt’s desk, where he is currently uploading a new post, to get to his chalkboards, and Newt just rolls his eyes at him and resists the urge to give him the finger.

( _In more ways than one_ , a delighted voice squeals in the back of his head before he _shuts that shit down immediately_ ).

“Just because people like me more than they like you,” Newt fires back, though there’s nothing in it, “How many readers did your paper on Breach mechanics get? Like a hundred? And how many did my last blog about Kaiju chromosomes get? 15,000?”

The muscles in Hermann’s cheeks twitch and Newt grins widely.

“Kaiju are cooler than maths about some hole in the ocean man, face it,” Newt says, daring Hermann to snap back at him.

One day he’ll confront the reason why he deliberately baits Hermann within an inch of his life, but he’s been repressing that conversation for a long time already, and he’s sure he can last a while longer.

Not least when he hasn’t gotten laid for well over two years.

“That ‘hole in the ocean’ as you so deftly put it,” Hermann says, irritation woven through every syllable, “Is the most important site of scientific exploration on the planet. It warrants far more attention than the _things_ that come through it, you insufferable groupie.”

 _Ah, there it is._ Newt basks in the glow of the name-calling, despite the little voice in the back of his head pressing him to admit why he likes it so much.

 _Masochism_ , he thinks to himself firmly, _just a simple bit of masochism_. 

Plus… it’s fun.

“Don’t get jealous Herm, baby,” Newt teases, and Hermann chokes on his coffee.

“Do _not_ refer to me as… that,” he snaps back, unable to even get the word out, and Newt has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud at the sheer outrage on his face.

“Anyway,” Hermann carries on, collecting himself as he treads through his next sentence, “Blog views hardly reflect genuine interest in a subject. I imagine your comment section is full of spam as opposed to people actually engaging with your… nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense!” Newt protests, but he shuts up pretty quickly as Hermann gets up from his desk and drags his chair across the lab and scrapes it to a halt next to Newt.

“Give me the mouse,” he demands, but Newt grabs it at an unexpected speed and holds it high in the air, snatching it away. Hermann rises out of his chair and leans over Newt to try and snatch it back, hitting his upper arm in the process, before he accidentally elbows him in the stomach whilst trying to rip the cable out of his hands.

 _Why does he always have to be so childish_ , Hermann bemoans, though he refuses to reflect on how it didn’t stop him from responding in kind.

“Okay, okay, I yield, have it your way,” Newt says, slightly winded, and he hands the mouse over. Hermann has an expression on his face that looks dangerously close to concern, and Newt patches on a small grin so it goes away.

To his chagrin, Hermann accepts his forgiveness instantly ( _couldn’t have even felt guilty for a few minutes…_ ), and he clicks onto Newt’s blog and selects his most popular post from the last year – a video of him wielding a scalpel and carefully dissecting layers of a Kaiju lung, yelling out facts and statistics about their breathing apparatus in his usual hyperactive way as he goes.

Newt thinks the post got a lot of views because the content is genuinely interesting.

Hermann knows it is because he accidentally left an extra shirt button open, and the internet is full of perverts.

( _Himself included_ , and he _really_ doesn’t have time for _that_ right now.)

“Look at this,” Hermann says, scrolling down to the comments section, and Newt shifts awkwardly in his seat. There’s genuine love in this project – a desire to get the science and the truth out to the people, and even if Hermann doesn’t believe there’s any value in it, _he does_.

 _Don’t let me down guys_ , he prays in the back of his head, _don’t all be weirdos please._

They disappoint, until they don’t.

“Spam, spam, spam,” Hermann declares as he scrolls down the page, “Useless commentary on your scalpel technique, pointless comparison to giraffe lungs from _VettyZooWho99_ , spam, spam, an advert for… ladies of the night in Rio de Janeiro.”

Hermann clears his throat there, and Newt smiles behind his closed fist. He’s also pretty grateful that Hermann mentioned the idiot who complained he wasn’t wielding his scalpel at the correct angle for dissection – that had just been plain _rude_.

“And this one,” Hermann pauses, reading through a paragraph that Newt recognises as Korean, “this one says…”

Newt notes with some intrigue that a blush starts to bloom in Hermann’s jaw, gently gliding underneath his skin until his whole face is positively radiating red.

“Erm, well we can move past that one,” Hermann says with a slight cough, but Newt grabs the mouse off him before he can flick past it.

 _No way is he glossing over someone complimenting me just because it makes him look bad_ , Newt thinks to himself gleefully. One point to him, nil to the spoilsport in the terrible corduroy blazer.

“Nah dude, let’s go through this one,” he goads, pointing to the screen, “Or are you just afraid that it’s going to completely back me up and make you look stupid, huh?”

“Newton, I’d really rather not,” Hermann says, his cheeks still flushed crimson red, and Newt is actively _loving this_.

“C’mon man, if you’re so desperate to prove that everyone either hates me or is a robot, then the least you can do is go through all the evidence fairly,” he complains, putting the emphasis on _fairly_ in the knowledge that Hermann will never refuse correct investigative procedure.

It turns out that his insistence is his funeral.

Hermann clears his throat, and licks his lips, and Newt leans back in his chair with his arms tucked behind his head in triumph.

“This… young man in South Korea…” he begins unsteadily, and Newt swings on the back two legs of his stool, “is a rather _avid_ fan, I think it’s fair to say…”

He pauses awkwardly and Newt prods him in the side to get him to continue.

“C’mon Hermann, I know you don’t like singing my praises but-”

“But he spends most of the comment talking about how he wants – and I quote – to ‘suck your cock totally dry’,” Hermann says rapidly, not daring to pause for breath, and Newt does the only thing that he can do in such a scenario.

He falls backwards off his chair.

“Oh fuck,” he hisses, climbing to his feet in a daze and rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head where the base of his skull had collided with the metal grating.

Hermann is staring at him like Newt has just spontaneously combusted, and it takes him a split second to remember why. Suddenly, his face is burning just as brightly as Hermann’s, and he practically leaps across the desk to close the window down. The two of them stare at Newt’s computer background – Berlin in the snow, a sight familiar enough that it threatens to make both of them nostalgic – and staunchly refuse to make eye contact with each other.

After a few seconds that could have really been an hour, Newt’s not sure, he tentatively asks, “Do you think that counts for or against me? In terms of… y’know, people enjoying the blog?”

Hermann shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“I think that’s a point in your favour,” he admits begrudgingly.

He pretends not to notice Newt creeping out of the lab five minutes later. 

*

Hermann’s major problem, he ruminates one morning, is that he has – against all advice and all reproach – fallen _stupidly_ in love with Newton Geiszler.

In his defence, he had been so busy with the Breach that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to how integral Newt had become in his life until it was too late. And unfortunately, no matter how he looks at it, it’s not the kind of “integral” that he can even pretend is platonic.

No, no matter how many times he looks over at Newton, bent over his worktop, cutting up Kaiju guts and splashing toxic chemicals all over their shared lab and thinks him _appalling_ , he still wakes up at 3AM with the imagined sensation of his mouth around his cock followed by a frustrated masturbation session that only ever ends in him coming with Newt’s name searing the back of his throat.

It is embarrassing, it is unseemly, and above all, it is utterly unprofessional.

Newt really has brought him down to his level.

If he is completely honest with himself, though, it’s not all bad. For all of the insults they sling at one another, Newt has never been anything but loyal to him. Despite the cheap shots and the glares and the retaliatory throwing of chalk, Newt will defend Hermann to death in front of any anti-PPDC protestor, in front of the Marshal, even in front of his _father_.

( _And hadn’t it really hurt, for him to realise he loved Newt at the exact same time that his dad realised it too_ ).

Newt is ridiculously smart – more so than he is, even if Hermann will gladly admit that to nobody except himself – and very funny, and Hermann would like nothing more than to drag him to bed and never come out again. He has a mouth that any poet would beg to call _captivating_ , and though Hermann knows Newt doesn’t look at him like he wants the same thing, he can’t stop himself imagining the feeling of that mouth against his.

Admittedly, however, he sometimes fantasises about it purely because it would make him _shut up_.

Like right this second, for instance.

“I was trying to be helpful,” Hermann rebuts, insulted, and he turns away from Newt and diverts his attention back to his chalkboard. He wobbles on the ladder for a moment, and then starts marking away again, the harsh scrape of chalk against blackboard almost loud enough to drown Newt out.

Though not quite.

“Yeah, well I don’t need your help,” Newt shouts back, and it’s a red flag to a bull.

“In one breath you’re complaining that you desperately need to read this paper, and in the next, you don’t need it, just because I’ve offered to translate it for you,” Hermann recounts out loud, emphasising his role in the current situation, “But of course Newton, feel free to waste valuable hours pretending that you can read Dutch just for the sake of your pride.”

“It’s not that different from German,” Newt says scornfully, and Hermann lets out a mocking laugh.

“No, of course it isn’t,” Hermann retorts, “They’re practically identical.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty Hermann, just because I don’t want you to-”

“I would hardly call it ‘high and mighty’,” Hermann bites back, and he can feel himself moving away from insulted towards _angry_ now, and that realisation in and of itself is making him feel worse, “I am simply staggered by how petty you are. I always knew you were arrogance personified, but this-”

“It doesn’t make me arrogant that I don’t want you to translate a freaking research paper!” Newt shouts back, and Hermann climbs down from his ladder because he is shaking so much that he worries he will otherwise fall from it.

“I did not expect you – of _all_ people – to have a problem with the pursuit of knowledge, even if it clearly falls out of your area of interest,” Hermann fumes, “It may not be up to your standards of dissecting alien body bits and throwing them around the laboratory, but languages _are_ important and I will not-”

“Oh, come off it man!” Newt interrupts, getting up from his desk and stomping over to the lab’s halfway point, teetering over the line that divides them, “You know that’s not it.”

“Then _what_?” Hermann seethes, because he really has had enough of the way Newt has been acting towards him since he told him about all of this, “What is it? Your appalling need to always be the best at everything? The fact that you are so insecure that you cannot _bear_ someone else knowing more than you? Is it just that – you’re jealous?”

Newt looks like he has been struck by lightning.

And then it all comes tumbling out.

“Oh my god Hermann, I’m not jealous, it’s your fucking _mouth_.”

_Wait._

_What?_

“My… it’s my… could you explain what, precisely, you mean by ‘your mouth’?” Hermann asks, barely managing to get through the question. He grips onto his cane as Newt looks him directly in the eyes. He traverses the border between their halves of the lab and approaches Hermann’s desk.

His hands are shaking, and Hermann’s are too. 

“Okay,” Newt says, though Hermann is sure it is more to reassure himself than it is to pacify him, “Okay, I erm-”

He wrings his hands together – something Hermann has only ever seen him do when being reprimanded by the Marshal for forcing the Shatterdome to evacuate ( _three times now, Doctor Geiszler, so I’m going to need a better excuse than “science”!_ ) – and Hermann feels more confused than ever.

“I err…” Newt tries to start again, and he is blushing so hard Hermann starts to worry that all the blood going to his head is going to burst out through his nose, “I might have a bit of a _thing_ … about you. Your mouth, in particular. And err- the whole polyglot thing… kinda made it worse.”

“I’m sorry, a ‘thing’?”

Hermann is glad they don’t have a window in the lab, because Newt looks as though he would throw himself out of it.

“I… I- Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this to you,” Newt says, looking down at the floor, “I have some very… specific fantasies involving you… and your mouth.”

Hermann just stares at him.

“Are you, err, receiving me?” Newt asks nervously before he runs a hand through his hair, “I, erm… shit Hermann, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t make a sexual harassment complaint to HR about me, I promise I’ll never mention it again-”

“…And what would these specific fantasies involve?” Hermann hears himself asking, although he isn’t sure that he gave himself permission to speak.

It seems to be the right thing to say though, because Newt audibly exhales a sigh of relief, even if he can’t yet bring himself to look at him.

“Before I… before I start telling you that, is this you- are you saying you would want to…” Newt trails off, and it is awkward and stilted and Hermann doesn’t think they could have done this any other way.

His mouth is so dry that he can barely speak.

“Yes. I suppose- yes, I would. I want to,” he murmurs, because he does know what ( _who_ ) he wants, even though he isn’t quite sure to exactly what he is agreeing.

Hermann’s acquiescence seems to unlock the chain that was holding back the veritable avalanche of Newt’s feelings.

“It’s just the way you talk,” Newt confesses, his hesitation melting away with every word, “Ever since we met, the way you talk has just- It goes right through me dude. Your voice, your accent, your mouth, all of it. Like… when you get angry and start ranting at me, it makes me so hard that I end up having to go and wank in the emergency safety shower.”

Hermann’s eyes widen.

_Good god and heavens above._

“And I tend to fantasise,” Newt continues, though now his voice fades until it is barely audible, “About you… talking to me, telling me- telling me exactly what you’re going to do to me… Leaning over me and telling me exactly how you’re going to fuck me.”

Hermann can feel himself getting hard and his head spins when he sees that Newt is having a similar reaction as he stands in front of his desk, towering over him like the sky over the sea. Hermann is dizzy at the sight of him, his heart pounding so violently that he worries he might just crack a rib.

“And then suddenly you can speak twelve languages, and literally all I can think about is how fucking good your mouth is,” Newt blurts out, before he starts to laugh, “Like, it’s all I can think about. I haven’t slept properly for weeks. And nobody else can… _do_ anything about it, because it’s you Herm.”

He pauses, the mania abating, and his next words come like a prayer.

“It’s been you for years.”

Hermann’s heart lurches and the sun bursts in his chest.

“Come here,” he says breathlessly, his brain whirring to try and comprehend all of the information he has received in the last five minutes.

 _For years_ echoes on a loop inside his brain before it fills his veins, makes him higher than any addict has ever been. _And I tend to fantasise_ rolls around his mind too; the idea that Newt has been thinking of him in the same way he has him is overwhelming in the extreme. The idea that someone could desire him… and the fact that it is _Newton_ …

He has no idea what he is going to do, but he is going to do _something_. Newt’s revelations – delivered through cracked sentences and creaking vowels but unveiled all the same – have emboldened him in a way he would have never believed possible before this conversation.

Newt approaches him like a keeper approaches a caged lion; there is something tentative in the way he walks, something young and naïve and terrified in his expression that assures Hermann that this isn’t just a one-off thing. This is real. This is wanted, and real, and the culmination of years of longing.

Hermann is unable to stop himself doing what comes next.

He grabs the front of Newt’s shirt and shoves him up against one of his chalkboards, vital equations smearing away underneath his body, and Hermann can’t find an ounce of himself that cares because all that matters right now is the man in front of him.

Their breaths catch together in the small space between them, and Hermann very deliberately licks his upper lip, watching Newt’s eyes on his mouth and the way he shivers at the very sight of it.

He leans in, close enough that he can feel the vibrations of Newt’s heartbeat thrumming through the air, and very slowly bites down on Newt’s bottom lip, increasing the pressure until Newt finally whimpers lowly against him. Then, and only then, does Hermann relinquish his hold. He brushes his tongue along the inflamed skin, a gentle, soothing balm against the fire, and then steps between Newt’s legs and slowly presses his hips against his. Newt whines, and Hermann resists the urge to pin him to the ground and extract that sound from him over and over and over again.

He kisses him instead, the first of a thousand, and he doubts winning the War could even touch the sides of how good it feels. Newt’s lovely mouth is hot and wet and enticing against his, and the kiss is dirty, dirtier than any kiss Hermann has ever had, intent weaved into every movement his mouth makes; it’s his promise to Newt that is going to _ruin_ him, in just the way he wants him to.

Newt’s hands are clutching his shirt so tightly he can feel the fabric straining around his back, and Hermann digs his fingers into his hips, laying bruises just above the arch of his arse, and he pulls him in even closer. Newt drops his forehead onto his shoulder, panting and swearing under his breath as Hermann grinds against him.

 _There you are_.

He reaches down and starts to undo the first button of Newt’s jeans and Newt gasps for breath against his neck.

He has never looked quite so beautiful. Hermann has never loved him quite so much.

“No,” Newt manages to get out, “Not with your hands.”

Hermann grins sharply, a hunter enamoured by its ensnared prey.

“Interesting,” he murmurs into Newt’s cheek, and as he mouths wet shapes against his skin, descending lower and lower with every tick of the clock, Newt starts to smile like all of his dreams are coming true.

*

_“You don’t have to you know, not if you’re not comfortable with it. I know I’m normally the one who does most of the talking-”_

_“Precisely Newton. Now wouldn’t it be nice to change that dynamic just for a little while?”_

_“…Do you want me to shut up completely?”_

_“I hardly think that will be necessary. In fact, I’d rather like it if you were to… vocalise your feelings.”_

_“Oh my god you kinky son of a bitch. You get off on this just as much as I do-”_

_“Hush for now darling.”_

_“Shit Herm. What are- what are you going to do?”_

_“That depends entirely on you, Doctor Geiszler. What would you prefer? Would you rather me down on my knees, or you flat on your back?”_

_“Jesus Christ-”_

_“I should think so too. Lie back for me darling.”_

_“Oh my god Hermann. Shit-”_

_“Off to a good start, I see. Do you like it when I touch you there?”_

_“God, yes. Please, there…”_

_“I wish you could see how you look right now Newton. I wish you could see just how dishevelled you look underneath me. How utterly wrecked you are. And I’ve barely even started with you.”_

_“Tell me. Tell me what you’re going to do.”_

_“Well Newton, I’m going to start with your cock. I’m going to stroke you ever so gently, so much so that you’ll barely be able to feel my fingers around you. I’m going to do it so slowly that you’re going to beg me to move faster, to touch you properly. I’m going to have you gasping my name before I’ve even pressed my palm against you. And when I do, I’m going to wrap my hand around you and use your own precum as lubricant because you’re already going to be dripping with it. Is that enough for now?”_

_“Oh god. Oh god Herm. Please. I want you to do that, please.”_

_“I like it when you say please. Manners go a long way Newton. If you were so inclined to use them in the future, I might find it appropriate to… reciprocate accordingly.”_

_“What- how? How would you?”_

_“If we were in the laboratory, I think I would suck your cock in the decontamination shower, given your revelation that you often masturbate in there to the thought of me. I would take all of you into my mouth, right to the very back of my throat and hold you there until it starts to choke me. Then I would lick you until you’re desperate to come. You’d have your fingers in my hair at this point, I think. You’d need something to hold onto.”_

_“Would you let me… can I come in your mouth?”_

_“Of course you can darling. We wouldn’t want to leave any evidence lying around for anyone else to see. I would swallow you down completely, and then mouth you clean. Picture it Newton: I’m at your feet and I have you dripping down my chin-”_

_“Stop a sec.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry Newton, if I went too far…”_

_“No, no it’s not that. You’re… shit I’m going to come in like five seconds if you keep talking. Just give me a minute.”_

_…_

_…_

_“Are you ready to resume?”_

_“You’re gonna be the death of me man.”_

_“Not before we’ve enjoyed ourselves, I assure you.”_

_“I don’t think I could be enjoying myself more if I’m honest.”_

_“Is that what you think?”_

_“God Herm, I didn’t mean it as a challenge.”_

_“Would you like to know what I’m going to do to you next?”_

_“Shit. Yes. Yeah.”_

_“I think I’m going to move along a little. I think that if I touch your cock again, this is all going to be over far too soon, so I may have to lay my attention elsewhere. I’m going to put my fingers in your mouth. I’m going to need you to suck for me darling.”_

_“Uh-huh-”_

_“That’s perfect. You’re perfect Newton, so good at doing what you’re told.”_

_“I’ll do anything… if it’s you- you telling me what to do.”_

_“Such a good boy.”_

_“Fuck, Hermann, say that again.”_

_“Good boy, Newton. You’re my good boy. Now I’m going to start with just one finger. Tell me if it’s uncomfortable or you want me to stop.”_

_“Ngh- no, that’s good.”_

_“You’re so tight, Newton, so warm around me. When was the last time somebody opened you up like this?”_

_“Two- ugh, shit. Two years ago.”_

_“Hmm. And when was the last time you did it yourself?”_

_“Two nights ago.”_

_“What were you thinking about whilst you did it?”_

_“You. Fucking- god of course I was thinking about you.”_

_“What did you imagine me doing to you?”_

_“Shit, Herm. You fucked me- fucked me over your desk until I was screaming your name out.”_

_“Was I gentle with you?”_

_“No.”_

_“Do you want me to be gentle now?”_

_“…No._

_“Is this okay then? Is it okay if I open you up with three fingers? Do you feel full enough? Is this pleasurable enough for you Newton?”_

_“Oh god that feels so good, yeah. Ngh- you can… please, Hermann, please…”_

_“Tell me what you want me to do darling.”_

_“Please get inside me. Please- I need you inside me.”_

_“Like this?”_

_…_

_“Newton?”_

_“Just- give me another sec. I just- fucking… you are amazing. Incredible. This is worth- shit, every minute I’ve waited for you.”_

_“Are you ready?”_

_“Yeah. Please- fuck me Hermann, shit, please.”_

_…_

_“Herm, talk to me baby. Tell me how it feels.”_

_“You feel… sublime darling. Mein Gott Newton- you are magnificent. You are gorgeous like this. I’ll never be able to close… my eyes again with seeing you like this. You are a vision. Such a- such a good boy.”_

_“Herm, harder, please… harder.”_

_“I always knew you would like it like this. Every time I lay in bed… stroking myself and thinking of you- you were like this... writhing underneath me, gasping for breath as I took ownership of you- You love it like this. You loved being fucked like this. Maybe next time I’ll strap you down-”_

_“Oh god yeah, yeah- yeah.”_

_“And I’ll watch you arch against your restraints, unable to stop yourself reaching out for me. You’d like that too, wouldn’t you Newton?”_

_“Herm, I’m getting close… I’m gonna…”_

_“It’s okay darling, whenever you’re ready. Here… is that better?”_

_“Jesus fucking-_

_“I just want you to remember this Newton. I want you to remember that I’m the one doing this to you.”_

_“Don’t- don’t think I could forget it.”_

_“No, but I want you to be fully... cognisant of it. I’m the one who fucks you like this. I’m the one who touches you like this. I’m the one who can reduce you to a… beautiful, quivering mess… It’s only- only ever going to feel this good when it’s me. You’re only ever going to want me to do this to you. Anyone’s else’s hands won’t feel the same… you’re only ever going to beg for my mouth, for my cock, and I’ll be there… every time.”_

_“Hermann- Hermann… shit, shit, oh god. Oh my god.”_

_“Newton-”_

_“It’s okay Herm, you can do it too. Come here. Come here. Keep going, you’re so close-”_

_“Scheiße Newton- Touch me there again…”_

_“Here?”_

_“Oh yes Newt, yes… just… I’m-”_

_“Kiss me baby.”_

_“Ngh… oh fuck.”_

_…_

_…_

_“Dude, I’m going to need you to swear a lot more often from now on.”_

*

Things aren’t always perfect (it is the end of the world, after all), but as the years roll by, Hermann develops a penchant for finding all the right words.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 3,000 words and it completely got away from me. I had so much fun writing it.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please spare some love for my baby 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 (if I knew how to embed I would... she's on my profile... she's pretty good).


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